


Latter Days

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770)



Series: Latter Days [1]
Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, Music RPF, Robert Plant - Fandom, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Adventure, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arguing, Bisexual Male Character, Dominance, Eventual Sex, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magic, Male Slash, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Older Characters, Paganism, Rock Stars, Scarlett Sabet - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111
Summary: Robert Plant and Jimmy Page of today, meeting up again after years apart. Do they feel the same? Will Jimmy's ex girlfriend murder Robert? What sort of sexy tales will be told?No offense meant to Jimmy's real life girlfriend, who's likely a nice, lovely person, and no offense to any real people out there.This exists in the Lost Boy timeline of my previous stories.
Relationships: Jimmy Page/Robert Plant
Series: Latter Days [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812736
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	1. Sad Thud of an Old Heart

Latter Days

1

The Tower House  
Sometime maybe last week…or last year…

A man walked up to the front door of what appeared to be a fortress, craning his neck to see the top of it. For Pete’s sake, he thought, could it get more gaudy. Built in the Gothic Revival style in the late 1800’s, it was essentially a castle, towering over the other residences in the district. He shook his greying mane of blond hair and buzzed the front door.

After a moment the heavy wooden door swung open to reveal a slender, red-haired young woman who looked at him with something between disdain and dismay. “Hello, Robert. Should’ve known you’d show up eventually.”

“Oh, let him in,” a familiar voice drifted from the hallway.

The lady snorted and stepped aside to let the man, who loomed over her petite frame, enter.

This was similar to a meeting more than fifty years before, Robert thought to himself, only this time the girl was wearing actual clothes. Jimmy was waiting on him in a spectacular medieval style room, with gilded ceilings, antique art and artifacts, and a beautifully decorated and painted round table with matching chairs. “That was a chilly welcome,” the taller man observed dryly as the lady disappeared into the bowels of the estate.

“She’s moving out soon, just waiting for her new place to get finalized,” Jimmy said.

“Things not working out?” Robert asked, trying not to seem too interested.

“You could say that,” Jimmy said, and in a few bounds had grabbed the other man in a surprising squeezing hug. His long, silver-white hair was a bit thinner than before, but still had natural waves. Robert buried his face in Jimmy’s hair, breathed in his scent. He could feel his heartbeat through the layers of clothes the guitarist wore, as he was always freezing.

They stood like this for a good while, holding one another and holding one another up, it seemed. When they drew apart, Robert marveled at how beautiful Jimmy still is, only now he resembled a real life wizard. The lines in forehead and around his eyes were deeper, but his green eyes still shone, the mouth still looked luscious.

Jimmy in turn searched the face of his oldest friend, his singer, his lover, what he thought of for many years as his husband. Robert looked like he should be leading the forces of Rohan against Mordor, astride a white horse, power and wisdom in his hands. “It’s so good to see you,” Jimmy murmured, and grasped Robert’s hand in his own delicate one.

“Same here. I have missed you.”

Silence descended as the two men considered how to proceed. Robert wasn’t even sure why he came, only that something seemed to call him.

_The sad thud of an old heart._

“Well, at least let’s get comfortable. My old bones get tired standing on the hard floor,” Jimmy said, still holding Robert’s hand, and led him to a huge den. It wasn’t as ostentatious as the other rooms, but they sank into the sectional together. Somehow they reverted out of habit to their old behaviors, Robert leaning on Jimmy’s shoulder, with the guitarist’s arm around the singer’s middle. “Just wanna make one thing clear,” Robert announced after some time, “I’m not here for a bloody Led Zeppelin reunion.”

“I figured as much.”

“Did you?”

“Then why have you come?”

“The last, sad thud of an old heart.”

“Robert, love. You make me sad,” Jimmy said softly, stroking the still-bouncy curls of his companion.

“We’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Hmph. I’m older than you,” Jimmy pointed out. “And there’s more thuds left in your heart, you know.” He slipped his hand inside the button up shirt Robert was wearing, to feel that familiar, strong heart beating.

Robert sighed. “The more I move forward, the more the past sneaks up on me.” He was enjoying the touch of Jimmy’s hand on his flesh, more than he’d expect he would at this point in time.

“I thought you felt I was stuck reliving old glories,” accused Jimmy.

“Oh, Pagey, I know all the things I’ve said over the years. Well, most of them, minus the drugs and alcohol of my youth. I still remember our vow.”

“To walk the path,” finished the guitarist, groaning contentedly as Robert nuzzled his slender white neck. “I also remember we pledged ourselves to one another.” They both remembered fondly the ritual performed at Jennings Farm.

“Our paths diverged at times. You can’t stay in one place forever, I had to keep it moving. But now our paths have joined again.”

“Has it?” Jimmy pulled away to look into that familiar, well-worn and well-loved face. “What are you saying? That we should take our relationship public?”

“No, since we flaunted it and hid it in plain sight,” Robert said. “I want to see you more, spend time with you again. I’m still yours. I’ve always been yours.”

“A joining of two great houses, like a legend,” Jimmy laughed. “What makes you think that would work?”

“Why wouldn’t it? We don’t have the things holding us back as we did with Zeppelin.”

“What makes you think that’s what I want?”

Robert’s eyes narrowed at the guitarist. “What are _you_ saying? I’m not the boy from the Midlands anymore that you can play with! Stay here in your overblown castle and rot!” He jumped to his feet, like some warrior-king from on high ready to punish an offense.

Jimmy grabbed the younger man’s arm, immediately contrite. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s just that, well for a long time you’ve been hot then cold. I have a sensitive old heart, my love, speaking of sad thuds. I don’t know what you’re about, showing up here unannounced.”

Robert’s face softened somewhat, but he still wouldn’t sit down again. “I came because of you. I came because we are pledged to one another, and not even death will part us. And I came because I wanted to, because I love you.”

****

Here's [Older Robert](http://fav.me/ddwzghk)


	2. Just Like I Scarred You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending some time together may heal old wounds, or then again somebody might get their ass kicked lol.

Jimmy's eyes filled with tears once Robert had said that. The singer plopped back down beside the guitarist, unsure of where the tears were coming from. "That's what I've wanted to hear for so long," Jimmy murmured. "For years that's what I've waited for. And to have you seek me out at last.." he trailed off, clearly moved. 

"Oh, Jimmylove," sighed the curly-haired man. "Have I hurt you so badly? I never meant to."

"No, I understand," Jimmy spoke. "I couldn't process when Bonzo died, and you who knew him longest was left to deal with it alone."

"You were killing yourself, heading for his fate," Robert whispered, his own eyes filling with pity and pain, recalling how addicted and how unhealthy Jimmy had been.. "I wanted to distance myself from it, from you, from everything. And then, when I got out on my own...I found I liked it. But Jimmy, I never stopped thinking of you."

The white-haired man pulled Robert close, his wiry strength still a surprise, and kissed him. After a moment Robert's body responded, softly kissing him back. The kiss could've lasted a minute, an hour, a day, a week; Robert only knew he now missed something he didn't know he was missing once he drew back to gaze at his love. "It's hard to not be needed anymore," Jimmy admitted. "By you, by a band, by the public."

"Jim, stop," the singer told him, and covered that soft, perfect mouth with his own. After the kiss, Robert pulled the other man even closer, those strong arms wrapped protectively around the sorcerer that conjured the biggest band in the world for a time into being, and conjured love in Robert's heart.

_Just like I scarred you._

"Rob, there's something I want to show you," the guitarist said, wriggling out of Robert's embrace and getting to his feet.

"I'm sure it's about the same, love," Robert quipped, eyes glancing to the other man's crotch. He really couldn't help himself.

"Not that," Jimmy rolled his earthy green eyes. "Though it's kinda hit or miss anymore. No, I want you to come with me. You'll like it."

Robert let himself be pulled through labyrinthine hallways to a door that led to the backside of the enormous house. After stepping outside into the evening Robert was confronted with a beautiful garden, fruit trees and flowers and vegetables and kitchen herbs and more in neat rows. Those stormy blue eyes widened taking it all in--it was like a nobleman's kitchen garden from the middle ages, where the cooks gathered fresh produce among the sweetest-smelling flowers, and the long-awaited supper would be so delicious. There would be a fire roaring in the fireplace and the voices of folks eating and talking and laughing. Perhaps a bard would be playing a lute and singing some tale of faraway lands. He closed his eyes, drank in the sun shining on his old face, one still bright and attractive despite the years his face carried. "Pagey..this is glorious."

"I told you you'd like it," he smiled, enjoying the sight of the tall, rangy man standing, eyes closed, breathing in the scents of all the plants around him. He laughed when Robert stretched himself prone on the grass. "Is it time for your nap?" joked the guitarist.

"No, hah, you can feel the energy from the earth and the sun. Pagey, join me, will you?"

Page resigned himself to humoring his guest and laid down beside him. He did feel the warmth from the sun and the pleasant softness of the grass underneath him.

Some time after that, the woman was striding down one of the corridors to look for something she may have missed when she had been packing, when she heard men laughing amid metallic clangs. She looked out one of the windows that faced the back garden to see Jimmy and Robert play-fighting with swords, actual swords, and laughing like loons. What in God's name were they about? 

Neither was formally trained in any sort of fencing, but they had enthusiasm, and they weren't really trying to hit one another. The back door swung open to reveal the young woman, who's liquid hazel eyes blared at them. "What are you doing out here?"

"What does it look like, Scarlet? We're fighting to the death," gasped Jimmy.

"I'm defending my honor!" declared Robert, who could barely stand up from laughing so hard. Once he got himself together a little more, he stepped forward with sword handle toward her and said, "You wanna have a go? I'll let you get first strike.I know you don't like me, so come on!"

She took hold of the sword and smacked him in the butt with the flat part of the blade, threw the sword down, and plodded back into the house.

"Oh, she likes you," Jimmy assured him. "Otherwise she'd have run you through."

The pair felt cold drops on them, and realized it had started raining. Jimmy squeaked and made for the door, but Robert said, "Come on, let's feel the rain."

"I'll feel pneumonia if I get a chill."

"No, you won't, it's warm out. And besides, I have my ways." Robert's eyes glinted, with that boyish gleam he knew all too well.

So they stood out in the rain like two gnarled, thirsty Ents, and Jimmy decided this was better than any spell he'd read in any book, to make him feel young. They did eventually go back inside, and at Robert's insistence they went to the master bathroom. He explained that they would have a warm shower, as warm as you can stand, then put on new, dry clothes, and they wouldn't get sick. It always worked if you ever got caught in the rain in the countryside. It had to be done immediately, as soon as you could get inside.

"Is that some kind of folk remedy?" asked Jimmy.

"It's what my parents always did, and no matter where we were at or how drenched we were, we never got sick."

"You've never caught a chill?"

"Nope."

"Interesting," Jimmy murmured, before becoming distracted by the singer stripping his wet clothes off. He shrugged and followed suit, both men getting into the luxurious shower. "Ahh, that feels good," murmured Jimmy about the scalding water. 

"Yeesh, I won't have any hide left," Robert mock-complained. 

They soaped one another's backs up, again falling into routine, and toweled off well before putting robes on. "This is rather small," remarked the singer of the robe he'd been given.

"Oh, I think that's Scarlet's."

"Frosty the Snowgirl, y'mean? No thanks, I'll go naked."

"What!" guffawed Jimmy, holding his sides. "Oh, oh God. Fucking, oh God. I should tell her you said that."

"You better not! She's out for murder, that one."

"But you've never had problems with the ladies before."

"Hmm, well, we're both in love with the same bloke. So there's that." Robert then got the bright idea he would dart out the front gate to his car to get his bag of belongings, and slip back in, dress in a new change of clothes.

"Planty, I don't think that's a good idea. The neighbors already think they have Satan living next door."

"I don't care what the neighbors sayyyy," Robert sang, and went streaking across Tower House grounds in a too short robe.

****

[The Masters](http://fav.me/ddyvjgl)


	3. What Was and What Could Be Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert shenanigans, because he's Robert Plant lol.
> 
> Also, storytime!
> 
> And also, M/M sex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh let the sun beat down upon my face!

Jimmy was rummaging through his carved wardrobe for something dry to put on, and jumped when Scarlet remarked, "He's a damned lunatic. Absolutely shithouse." Robert's whooping could be heard as he let himself in the front door. 

"Have you met me?" Jimmy shot back.

"You gave him my robe?"

"It was available."

She pulled out an emerald green, embroidered shirt from the wardrobe and put it up to him. "That really brings out your eyes. You should wear it," she said, with no malice in her tone this time.

He thanked her, the suspicion evident on his face. "I...I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you needed."

"You're happier than I've seen you in a long time since he got here," Scarlet admitted.

"Yet your soul is bleeding," Jimmy said sadly. He hated the whole situation, and hated how good he felt while his now ex-girlfriend had nobody. He hated that such a creative romantic as her was now wounded.

"You should've been the poet and let me play the guitar," she snorted, and smiled for the first time in days.

"Look, there's no rush on you leaving if you still have things to do. I just hate that you're having to see me, and him--"

"You told me a little, and I surmised the rest. I think I'll be ok."

Jimmy admitted to himself one of the attractions was her erudite nature and way of speaking. But it wasn't to be, was never to be.

"Your neighbor's dog is an excitable chap," Robert said as he entered the master bedroom of the Master of the house. "He's still barking. Probably saw me bum as I was rooting through the boot of the car."

Jimmy and Scarlet giggled together.

"Oh, hello," Robert noticed the young woman. "Sorry about the robe."

"It's fine, it's whatever--" she began, then was brought up short when he removed it and began looking through his overnight bag. "Dear God. What..."

"Mmm, I'm thinking t shirt and jeans kinda night," Robert was muttering to himself, then slid into boxers and jeans before looking up. "Oh. You're still there."

"Yes, I live here, Robert! At least for the next few days!"

"I mean, you can get topless so we can match."

"He's a bloody child," she marveled. "A full blown train wreck." She stomped out of the room.

"I hate it when you do that. You do that shit on purpose," complained the guitarist, watching Robert pull the t shirt over his head. Poofy hair sprang back to life as soon as he got the neck hole over his head, and pulled the bottom of the shirt down over broad chest and still-tanned stomach, though it now lacked the tautness and definition it once had in his younger days.

"At least I'm wearing underwear this time." He chuckled. "I know, I do a lot of it on purpose."

Jimmy took Scarlet's suggestion and wore the vivid green shirt, which wasn't lost on the singer who drank in the sight as if he'd been through the desert and had just been offered water. Jimmy should've been a model, Robert thought. He was still so slender, so graceful, so deliberate in all his movements. That face was still so round and cherubic, but with the marks of his experience written upon it. All three ate dinner together in one of the smaller dining rooms, and wine flowed freely making it a cozy affair. 

At one point Scarlet asked them to tell her about them being in such an unconventional relationship in such a remarkable band, and both men felt it was that she was trying to understand. Robert was usually the one to jump in and start talking, as that was his nature, but he just looked quietly at Jimmy over his wine glass. "This is remarkably similar to the first time you stayed with me, at Pangbourne," Jimmy remarked. "Collette let you in."

"Funny how things repeat themselves," Robert said. "Round and round in circles, like our ancestors believed in the Great Wheel in the sky."

"Patterns in nature," agreed Scarlet, taking a sip of her wine. "The Spiral Dance of the pagans."

"I can see why you like her," Robert shot at Jimmy, but he was grinning.

"I think a good tale would be the time we went to Morocco and wrote Kashmir," Jimmy spoke, sitting down his glass and looking around at his companions like some wizard of old preparing to tell his comrades a yarn of some glorious campaign of old.

1973

One half of Led Zeppelin driving through the Sahara in a rickety Jeep piled with camping supplies, music equipment, some weed and some local hooch Robert picked up at their last stop. The road was narrow, rough, and seemed to stretch on into the distance, neverending. The heat was oppressive, even with the air conditioning, and poor, petite Jimmy bounced all over the vehicle as they hit ruts. Robert was feeling the warmth as only a British white guy in such a place could, but in true English fashion, was taking it like a champ. "I'm a little worried about the next checkpoint we'll hit," Jimmy said.

"Take it easy, man. You're the one who knows a little Arabic. We'll pick up another guide when we reach the next actual town," Robert assured him. He only knew some Hindi which didn't help any on this continent, and some French, which did help occasionally as France and Spain had had their hands on this country for the past few hundred years.

The next checkpoint had armed soldiers pointing their guns at the terrified pair, demanding to know what they were doing. The guitarist managed to get across to the patrol that they were just travelers, musicians actually, looking to play with traditional Moroccan instrumentalists. Robert belatedly thought about all the cash, booze and weed he had stashed away all over the Jeep and prayed that someone upstairs liked him and that they wouldn't be searched.

His prayer was heard as they were angrily waved off, so Robert started up the vehicle and they rumbled away, the checkpoint station thankfully growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. "Whew," went Robert. "What are they so up in arms about?"

"The government is changing over, from what I gather," Jimmy answered, taking out a canteen of water and gulping it down. "Something about Spain de-colonizing, relinquishing its final hold over the country. Everything is in upheaval, so everybody's rather tense."

Hours went by, and the road went ever on and on. Evening was drawing to a close, and with the sinking of the sun the air cooled off. Robert felt they should stop for the night, Jimmy wanted to push through, but finally as his bottom was extremely sore from bouncing around in that utilitarian vehicle he finally agreed they should halt and get started again in the morning. The pair then set to work putting up the tent and unrolling sleeping bags, after eating some of the travel food they'd brought with them, including some of the pastilla they'd gotten from a vendor at the last town they were at. It was almost like a large, round pastry with spicy beef inside, and Robert thought it was pretty good. Jimmy commented that the sweet/spicy thing was fighting a war on his taste buds, that it should be either hot or sweet, not both. The pair smoked the last joint as Robert ran out of rolling papers, but he informed Jimmy he had a carved wooden pipe for the rest of the loose weed, his 'hobbit pipe.'

The guitarist checked the map again by the light of the lantern as they sat across from each other in the small tent. He glanced up to find Robert staring at him, love in his eyes. He couldn't help but smile at this man he shared so much of his life with. They were really doing it, going places few of their peers ever went, having an adventure, and being exposed to musical ideas alien to them. Plus, he was doing it with someone he loved. He scooted to Robert and kissed him fiercely, his heart full. Robert wrapped strong, tanned arms around his friend and love, melting into the feelings, kissing till they were breathless and lips raw.

They undressed one another under the light of the lantern, running eager hands over one another's bodies, losing themselves to the feelings. Jimmy needed Robert, need to be filled up and told the singer so. He produced a tub of lube--he'd come prepared, and wasted no time working first one, then another finger into Jimmy, kissing him relentlessly. He worked three fingers into Jimmy to have him squirming and begging Robert to fuck him. It was more than the younger man could handle, he was on top the smaller man and entered him in one powerful thrust. Jimmy squealed in sudden pain and pleasure, but Robert didn't move for a bit until Jimmy wrapped those graceful legs around Robert's waist, encouraging him. He began to move, slowly, nearly painfully so, and they found their rhythm. Robert bent to take a nipple into his mouth, tonguing it then teasing with his teeth, making Jimmy cry out. He loved making the reserved, quiet-natured guitarist lose his mind this way, it was beyond hot.

Robert found his lover's lips again, tasting, his tongue exploring Jimmy's sweet mouth. When he found that spot inside Jimmy, he gripped Robert's ass and growled, "Yes, like that, oh like that. Fuck! Harder!"

The singer obliged, feeling he was getting closer to his peak, and began stroking Jimmy's cock that was straining underneath him. They were moving together, their hips in the same timing, breaths synchronized now, truly one. Robert wanted to ride that wave of pleasure forever, but after some time he cried out in that incredible tenor he possessed, followed by a lusty cry from the guitarist, as they climaxed nearly at the same time. They lay, arms and legs entwined, until their breaths slowed, then they grabbed some towels and got cleaned up.

Jimmy felt the need to urinate and so crawled out of the tent, and happened to look up as he was finishing. The desert sky was so vast and beautiful, and the stars appeared different than Jimmy was used to seeing in his homeland or even in America. The rolling dunes stretched out, beckoning in the cool desert night. "Robert, hey, you gotta see this," he called.

"Mwhat?" Robert answered from the tent blearily.

"Planty, come see this."

A few moments later, the blond man crawled out of the tent, still naked, to see what Jimmy was on about. He looked up where Jimmy was looking and beheld the stars in the blue-purple sky as night was falling, and the desert that went on forever. It was sublime. "Oh, Pagey, that's beautiful. This could fill my dreams, my waking moments. I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor have I," said Jimmy softly, bathing in this moment, this moment that would never happen again.

Art of [Older Jimmy](http://fav.me/ddzl63fhttp://fav.me/ddzl63f)


	4. Led Zeppelin Storytime Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure of one half of Led Zeppelin that led to the creation of the song Kashmir. 
> 
> They meet an elder of a gentle race, this world has seldom seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fictionalized some aspects of the Tuareg for storytelling purposes, so I hope I haven't offended anyone. They are a fascinating people and have white, Arabic and north African in their ancestry.

The next morning they set out, and Jimmy insisted he drive this time since he needed practice. Robert gritted his teeth in the passenger's seat at Jimmy trying to hold the Jeep to the shitty road. Who the hell doesn't learn to drive by Jimmy's age? But then again, it's Jimmy Page we're talking about. Robert was eating some dried dates when they came upon a fork in the road and Jimmy came to a jerky stop. Both men's heads slowly turned to stare at one another, then back to the junction. 

There wasn't supposed to be a fork, it was supposed to go straight into the next town.

Robert consulted the map to find that indeed it didn't show any divergence in the road. "So now what?" wondered the singer.

"I think we should try the left one," offered Jimmy.

"I dunno Jimmurs, I think we should hang right. We're supposed to be going straight, not toward the interior. It also gets hotter the more inland you go. The farther south parallel to the coast we go, the cooler it'll get, letting us know we're getting back to civilization."

"Left it is," Jimmy decided, to Robert's exclamations to the contrary.

So they drove. And they drove. And they drove. And the hotter and more desolate the environment became. Even the Jeep protested, as the engine overheated and they had to stop.

Robert was livid, pacing back and forth in front of the smoking vehicle while Jimmy was trying to maneuver a huge jug of water to pour into the reservoir. "I TOLD you, didn't I?" Robert was babbling. "We needed to keep heading south, not go toward the coast or further inland. But nooo, Ol' Bob don't know how to read a bloody map, he don't!"

"Now you're just reaching, I never thought anything of the sort," countered the dark-haired man. "I thought we would bypass a lot of this desert and/or strike another road!"

"Aghh, give me that," snarled Robert, and took the water jug from Jimmy to finish pouring it into the coolant tank. Jimmy watched him in surprise; the younger man was normally so happy-go-lucky and just happy to do whatever, this anger was unexpected. 

"Well, this is part of the adventure," Jimmy said weakly.

Robert finished with the jug and set it down, and sat down beside where Jimmy had flopped down, backs against the front wheel of the Jeep. "Well, if there's anyone I would rather sweat to death out in the desert with, it would be you," Robert said, his anger melting away as quickly as it had come.

Their hands found each other, fingers twining together like their lives and souls were twined together, watching the sun bake the earth. "Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face, and stars to fill my dreams," murmured Robert after a while.

"That's right nice," Jimmy said.

"I'm trying to think of something to go with that song you and Bonzo were working on, the ascending/descending riff one."

"The one tuned like Black Mountainside?"

"Yeh. It's so Middle Eastern sounding, and this place is actually inspiring me a bit," Robert declared, trying to keep his mind off their predicament.

A little after midday Jimmy leapt to his feet, laughing. "Look, Percy, look! It's people heading this way!"

"It's not a mirage, is it?" Robert got to his feet and squinted at where Jimmy was pointing. Sure enough, it was a long line of camels, horses, wagons, and goats making their way from the south/southeast. The musicians jumped up and down, shouting and waving their arms, and the caravan made their way to them. 

When they arrived it looked like something out of a storybook; the people were swathed in layers of mostly blue and white cloth, only their eyes visible, and they spoke in an alien, melodious tongue that neither Englishmen could understand, and the travelers didn't understand Arabic. After many attempts they found they could communicate with Robert in broken French and Spanish, with a few of the merchants among them able to speak and understand a little English. 

"These must be the Tuareg," Jimmy said, and the man that had been doing the most speaking among the folk nodded his head.

"We are much farther north than most of us go," he explained in a mixture of French and English. "But we were driven away by..," he struggled with the word he was looking for and spoke some of his own language, then, "Enemies. Raiders. We are looking for a place for our animals," he gestured to the camels and goats, "to eat, land where they can eat."

"Pastures, a place they can graze," suggested Jimmy. The man nodded and smiled.

Robert then explained that they were lost and their car had overheated, and that they were musicians from the West who wanted to connect with musicians from the Middle East and North Africa. The ambassador then spoke with an older lady who appeared, her willowy form swallowed in cloth of blue and black, and she spoke something in return and nodded at the two strangers. They soon learned the talkative Tuareg's name was Idir and that he had spoken to their leader, the lady named Lalla, and that their band would pause to help the two. 

In a flash, the nomads had set up pavilion sized tents and huts that were made up of pieces that could be set up or broken down quickly. The Blue Men of the Desert, as they were called, earned the name from the indigo-dyed turbans and veils they wore, that stained their skin blue. They were Muslims but their culture still carried a lot of underlying matriarchial and matrilineal ideas from their more ancient past. It was the men who covered their faces, in front of females and strangers as a sign of respect. The men did most of the traveling and trading, unlike this circumstance where the whole tribe had picked up and moved.

The women were beautiful and proud, and their greatest legend and hero was the Queen the Tuareg believed they were descended from. They flaunted their lovely faces, stained their lips with berries and wrote love poetry to the man they wanted to visit their tent at night, as the women owned the tents and household items, while the men own the livestock.

The musicians discovered all this as they sat in the main pavilion with Lalla and Idir, and Robert and Jimmy were amazed at such a fascinating, rare culture they had no idea about. "Talk and songs of tongues with lilting grace, the sounds caress my ears. Though not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear," Robert sang at one point, then realized he'd done it in front of their hosts.

Lalla smiled. "You have very good voice," she complimented him. "Sing well."

Robert smiled back. "Thank you, Ma'am."

She then asked Jimmy what it was that he did, and he brought out one of his old acoustic guitars, since they were traveling he didn't wish to lose or damage any of his others. He began to strum, in the Middle Eastern style tuning he'd been playing around with, and the Tuareg listened, even ones not in the tent creeping closer to hear the foreigner play. The melody started out like Black Mountainside but morphed and changed, rolling over and over itself like a trance.

Idir seemed spellbound, and Lalla was intensely watching Jimmy's fingers on the strings Then Jimmy went into "Over the Hills and Far Away" and Robert began singing it with him.

The leader thanked them for the demonstration once the song was over, and announced that they would be having the evening meal soon and they should play more afterwards.

"She like you," Idir informed the pair. "She not only one."

Robert looked over to see a couple of Tuareg women smiling at him. One striking lass approached him and said in the multi-lingual pidgin they were all using to communicate, "Is man with hair like wavy river of gold married? Or pledged?"

Jimmy rolled in laughter as Robert stammered, "Um, well, yes actually," he managed to say. "Sorry."

"Would still like golden-haired man to visit my tent tonight, if your ways would allow it."

"Blimey. I'm popular," Robert said, and slapped Jimmy's shoulder as he couldn't stop giggling. These girls get right down to it, it seems.

"Also, laughing one, with eyes like pieces of jade, Basil over there will write you poems, she say. Tonight." The other lady waved and smiled from the tent entrance. Her face was painted in patterns with red ochre, which brought out her light honey-brown eyes.

Jimmy sat up and ceased laughing. "I really don't want to be beheaded or something."

"Me either, love. How do we go about not offending anyone?"

"When in Rome..." Jimmy trailed off, then shrugged.

It was decided that a few of the younger men who'd ventured this far north would get the Westerners back to the road tomorrow, but for now, the nomads were preparing supper. They sat around the communal fire pit that had been built and ate flat bread, goat cheese, some kind of spicy stew, and couscous. Some of the nomad musicians brought out lutes and drums and played songs for their guests, who watched in rapt attention. 

The evening wore into night, while the singer and guitarist for Led Zeppelin played along with the Tuareg musicians, getting used to the strange modal harmonies and timing used. They took a break from music to talk to Lalla, the matriarch. She was around middle-aged, with greying hair and knowing golden brown eyes. "You do not go to tent of one who like you?" she asked Robert.

"I am not used to all that," Robert told her. "And I don't want to cause, eh, problems, like if she's you know, promised to someone."

"Woman choose who to invite," Lalla tells him. "Makes her desirable, to know men want to spend night with her. Help her make good marriage."

"Oh she's desirable," Robert chuckled. "Very beautiful."

"But the one you want is the man who plays guitar."

Robert's heart sank to his toes. How would these people react to such a thing? Would they be offended and hurt or even kill them? The singer already knew all too well the unpredictable destructive power of a riled-up mob. "I don't--"

"Pfffft," she scoffed. "Love is universal language. I see, I know, if others do not."

"You're not angry? Offended?"

"Only problem I have is making Takama sad, that such beautiful man refuses her company."

"Ah. When you put it that way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this isn't boring anyone, but I just thought how fantastical and romantic it would be, to journey among the Sahara with the one you love, listening to and writing songs and meeting strange folk you've never seen before!


	5. The Road Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driving to Kashmir, and beyond.
> 
> Robert and Jimmy can't not love each other. But at what cost?
> 
> M/M sexy stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Jimmy let go and let the wild love of Robert back into his life?

Latter Days

5

Robert awoke, groggy, wondering why he felt so drained and yet so satisfied. He slowly became aware he was in a large house-sized tent and Jimmy’s voice was hissing insistently from outside at him. “Robert! Hey!”

“Hmm?” he finally groaned, and rolled over in the embroidered cushions he’d been slumbering on. Wait, who’s arms and legs was this? He sat up.

“Get up!” repeated Jimmy. “You have to be seen-not-seen ‘sneaking’ out of the tent! The rest of the tribe is getting up. Come on!”

Robert rubbed his eyes to finally focus on a sleeping Takama, naked as a babe, sprawled beside him. “This is rather complicated,” Robert said to nobody in particular. She was pretty fucking hot, he thought in passing. Hopefully it was good for her, as he didn’t remember much, seeing as how they dipped into his pot and liquor stash the night before.

“It’s part of the whole morning after thing for them,” Jimmy was now half-yelling at Robert through the tent walls. “And get dressed first, you fucking hippie ass nudist!”

Robert groaned and went in search for some clothes. Huh, there was the metal tub the Tuareg woman made him bathe in first before they got down to business, oh look there’s me pants…

After a few minutes Robert, dressed, attempting discretion, slipped furtively out of the pavilion entrance to behold several of the nomads making a big show out of doing morning things, but trying not to grin. The singer sighed, baffled at their customs, and went to the camp center where the fire pit was to see about some breakfast. Idir was there, having some gruel.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked oh so innocently.

“Sure did,” was Robert’s answer.

“I slept well too, if anyone cares,” snorted Jimmy, who appeared beside Robert. He must’ve really given it to Basil, Robert thought. She hadn’t made an appearance yet. 

“So how was the girl with the herbal name?” asked Robert under his breath.

“From what I remember, a wildcat. And your name is Plant, remember?”

“Why Jimmurs, was that a joke? So early in the morning, too.”

The pair ate the gruel and fruit that made up the nomads’ breakfast, and waited as the little team of Tuareg that was going to be their guides prepared to leave. The musicians tried starting the Jeep, and it rattled to life, thankfully.

Jimmy sought out Lalla to thank her for the help and hospitality. He offered the old guitar he’d been playing as some sort of payment for all they received, as the nomads had loaded them down with food, water, and the robes and veils they used to protect themselves from the desert sun. She refused amiably, stating that the experience with the men from the West was payment enough.

Idir was one of the four young men that led them astride camels, back north and east to the correct road, Robert driving per his insistence that Jimmy bugger off with anything to do with vehicles. When they found the path at last, Robert stopped the Jeep and exited to say goodbye to Idir, who had climbed down from his mount. The way the man moved and glanced at a grey-eyed Tuareg peer, made Robert decide he wouldn’t be marrying any of those enticing, passionate women. They looked at each other a few moments, then Robert asked, “May I see your face? Please?”

Idir’s kohl-rimmed, dark brown eyes widened, but he nodded and unwrapped the many feet of deep blue cloth from his face.

He was gorgeous, his brown skin smooth and unblemished, the nose strong, cheekbones high, mouth wide and sensuous. As his dark eyes held Robert’s blue ones, he saw that he understood, supported him. A tear fell down one of those smooth cheeks, and Robert, without thinking, wiped it away with his thumb. “There’s a good lad. Be yourself, mate, however you can.”

Idir nodded and glanced at the grey-eyed young merchant he always traveled with, who gazed at Robert gratefully, and they bid their final farewells.

Jimmy watched in awe at the exchange, but knowing that this was one of Robert’s gifts, he understood people. He loved people, and wanted everyone to be happy. His Golden God. 

But he would never truly be his, would he? He belonged to the world now. He was a free spirit, bound to no one, no one place. 

Scarlet wiped her own tears with her napkin, and looked at the two men in turn. “I’m so moved. I…I don’t know what to say. I’m in pain, I’m only human, but I’ve only read and written poems about love like that. Just, wow.”

“A poet. I should’ve known,” grinned Robert. “Lady poets are a weakness of Jimmy there.”

“I just, I need to process,” Scarlet choked out, and ran to the master bedroom. Jimmy followed her, to find her gathering up blankets and pillows.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“One of the far bedrooms, so you can, well—“

“Darling, no. Stay in this one. We can take one of the other bedrooms, if that’s what I decide to do.”

“I know what you want,” she shot at him, frustrated. “And it’s that regal, goofy motherfucker in there.”

When Jimmy returned to the dining room, Robert was finishing off his glass of wine. “I’ve caused you a lot of trouble,” he said.

“The trouble was already here,” Jimmy responded. “Scarlet’s hurting, but she’s dealing. She’ll be out in a couple days, but I worry about her.”

“Don’t string her along,” Robert looked up at Jimmy, who was still standing in the doorway. “She’s a big girl.”

“You didn’t break her heart!”

“Things happen, Pagey. Don’t give her hope if there is none.”

“You asshole. You fucking asshole. Why do I love you?” he cried.

“Should she have hope? Should I leave?”

“No,” Jimmy whispered. “You told me earlier you’ve been mine. I don’t know about that, but I’ve always been yours. Whenever you wanted me. However I could get you. It’s why I…wanted and feared you coming back to me.”

In seconds Robert was where Jimmy was leaning against the doorway, cradling the smaller man in his strong arms. “I’ve been so cruel to you, haven’t I?” Robert murmured to Jimmy. “It’s my nature, I suppose. And you, always wanting to be in control, me rebelling. A cycle, round and round it goes. I’m here now, Jimmylove. Let me love you. Like I should’ve been doing.”

They found themselves in one of the guest bedrooms, which was comfortable enough as it wasn’t so vast or ostentatious. Jimmy was in Robert’s arms, clinging to him, afraid of being washed away in the tide of emotions but craving the singer’s touch, needing him so badly, kissing him until they could barely breathe or think. Jimmy yanked the t-shirt from Robert, then he in turn unbuttoned the emerald green shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Need slowly grew, despite age and time apart and self-consciousness. They were both peeled out of their pants, bodies pressed together, sighing at the feeling of their flesh melding together.

Robert pulled Jimmy to the bed, and they were in each other’s arms again, Robert’s hands roaming deftly over Jimmy’s slender body, recalling times before when they’d done these things. The last time they’d touched in such a way was the late 90’s, the Page/Plant tour that saw the dissolution of Robert’s second marriage as she had caught them together and couldn’t handle it. 

Their bodies weren’t the same, Robert was meatier than the last time Jimmy had saw him unclothed, the skin of arms and stomach more slack, the lines in his face deeper, the beard grey now, but it made no matter. This was Robert, his Robert, giving himself to him. Jimmy was thinner than ever, face softened with age and hair white as snow, but he was gorgeous, he was perfection to Robert. His dark angel, his mystery wrapped in an enigma.

The singer began stroking Jimmy’s cock, felt it come to life in his hand, their kisses wide-mouthed and punctuated with groans. Robert took Jimmy’s member into his mouth, sucking and licking as he knew Jimmy loved, hearing him moan his lover’s name. He tongued Jimmy’s balls, stroked and sucked and glanced up to meet Jimmy’s green eyes at times, making him more and more worked up. “Robert, oh, God that’s so good,” he gasped out as Robert worked him. Soon he tensed up, his balls emptying his spunk into Robert’s mouth, who swallowed it down eagerly. He pumped the last few spasms out of Jimmy, his mouth around the head of Jimmy’s dick, and the guitarist was wiped out, a gibbering mess.

He caught his breath, then looked up at Robert as he leaned over him. He reached up and kissed the singer, loving the taste of himself on Robert’s lips. He grinned once they parted and returned the favor to Robert, using those talented hands to full effect. He licked up and down Robert’s massive, engorged cock, kneading his balls and breathing on the head of his dick teasingly. Robert squirmed and let out some Zeppelinesque moans, while his blue eyes rolled into the back of his head. Jimmy paused cocksucking long enough to say, “Come for me, love. Come for me.” Robert tensed, his whole large frame quivering, and spurted into Jimmy’s mouth, spasm after spasm racking him. He was spent, still shaking a bit, when Jimmy crawled into the familiar embrace of Robert, the blond man’s arm instinctively going around the smaller man.

They went to sleep like this, secure and content, in one another’s arms.

The next morning housekeeping discovered the Master of the house not in his chambers, but in one of the smaller bedrooms, with a strange woman…

Scratch that, it was a man, apparently, and the woman of the house was having breakfast by herself in the atrium.

The servants didn’t even want to know what was up, but went about their duties wisely with mouths shut.

Robert awoke first, looking down at the silver-white head nestled on his chest, and sighed happily. Whatever it was that drove him to seek out his old bandmate, was correct. It was right. 

But how would the old peers/adversaries make this work? Could it work?


	6. Calling to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic stuff!!
> 
> Some sex, but shit gets real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it in Jimmy's head? Is it reality? Is it his magick?

Latter Days

6

Robert kissed those perfect, soft lips, unable to resist, and Jimmy stirred and opened those green eyes, gazing up at Robert. “Morning,” Jimmy muttered.

“Hello, love,” Robert responded. “I’m thinking morning sex.”

And so it was, with Robert giving it to Jimmy like he hadn’t had in a while, the guitarist squirming, moaning, screaming under the larger man, like old times. It never got tiresome, though.

Robert fended off his personal assistant who wanted to know where he was at, shutting off the phone to not be disturbed. He wasn’t into the whole smartphone thing, making Jimmy laugh at him. Jimmy, the custodian of Led Zeppelin’s catalogue, was up on the whole social media thing, and even showed some youtube videos to Robert. 

“So you mean, there’s someone who made a video of me during Nobody’s Fault But Mine, saying ‘Suck it, Jimmy,’” Robert asked in all seriousness.

“Yeah.”

“Are we that interesting?”

“We were in Led Zeppelin, love,” Jimmy explained. “That’s all they need.”

Robert couldn’t wrap his mind around it, and ended up shrugging and demanding they have more sex, which they did, this time with Robert letting Jimmy get him from behind.

Robert forgot to take his pills the night before in the rush to pleasure one another, with Jimmy finding out the singer wasn’t as infallible as he let on. He had partially blocked arteries despite the strong beating of his heart and healthy and vigorous demeanor. Jimmy had his own regimen that he took in the mornings, so he made a mental note to remind Robert in the evening to take his medication.

They went to a nice restaurant for dinner, held hands, gazed into each others’ eyes as it wasn’t so risky now, even though it could be problematic in some circles. Neither cared anymore, they had paid their dues and ran the gamut of adoration and hatred and were over it all. When they got back to the Tower House, Jimmy pulled Robert close when they got inside and whispered, “I love you.”

Robert breathed in, “I love you, too.”

They ended up, true musicians that they were, in Jimmy’s studio, noodling with guitars and Robert trying out lyrics he’d had in the back of his mind. There would never be a Zeppelin reunion, he’d made that clear, but even privately they could lay some things down. They were a pair, indeed—sometimes at odds, always in love.

Scarlet spent the day finalizing the transfer of her household to an apartment uptown and hanging out with friends, and when she arrived home she found Jimmy and Robert playing music together, and sighed sadly to herself.

Jimmy found her in the library, sadly touching books and tomes she’d never see again, while Robert said he was going to shower and go to bed as he was tired. “Scarlet. I take it things are wrapping up.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow I’ll have the rest of my stuff moved.”

“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. No matter what,” Jimmy told her, squeezing her hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m weak. I thought I was stronger than this,” she sobbed, and it broke Jimmy’s heart. The guitarist couldn’t find it in him to tell her definitively that it was over, to move on. He hated confrontation.

They ended up in the master bedroom, nothing sexual, just holding her, stroking the long, wavy red hair and murmuring encouraging words to the younger woman.

At some point late during the night Jimmy awoke in the master bedroom bed, Scarlet’s head on his shoulder. No, wait, this was wrong. Where was Robert?

He wandered blearily into the bedroom they’d shared the night before, to find Robert laying haphazardly across the bed in his underwear. Something was wrong, very wrong. He approached to find Robert’s left side of his face slack, drawn up, and he was unresponsive. A prescription bottle was clutched loosely in his hand, as if he had tried to take his dose but failed. He’d missed another day of his medicine.

“No, Robert,” cried Jimmy, pulling at the inert body. Robert’s eyes opened, tried to focus, his mouth tried to move, at least one side did. He had had a stroke, perhaps a series of them, Jimmy thought frantically. He kissed the slack face, tried to get a reaction, but the breath rattled in Robert’s chest.

He was dying.

Oh, no no NO NONONO

Jimmy cried out to God, any god, the devil, the heavens, anyone who would listen.

Scarlet appeared, drawn by the commotion, but Jimmy screamed at her, “Bitch! It’s your fault! I should’ve reminded him, taken care of him! Call the ambulance if you’re so concerned, you selfish twat!”

She ran crying from the room, but she dialed the rescue squad.

Jimmy cradled the muscular frame of his love, tears falling down his round face. “Robert, can you hear me? I love you. What can I do? What can I do?”

_Sweet surrender, now. So warm and tender, now._

Everything goes around in a circle. He’d had premonitions before.

He tried to warn Robert and Maureen not to drive in Greece before the accident, but hadn’t been in time. He was too strung out on heroin to see the warning signs of Bonzo’s death. He was in tune, he was a seeker, trying on knowledge as a model does outfits.

He got up from the bed, apologizing to the fading Robert, and went to his Inner Sanctum, his private library.

Jimmy read out incantations, searched for answers. There has to be a way. 

_You had a chance,_ the voice said when he opened himself up.

_Stop capitulating. You love him, right?_

_Then love him._

_No matter how many times he leaves you. At least he will be alive. Don’t be selfish._

_Be a man, for once. Make up your stupid mind. This is your chance._

He must pierce the Veil. Reach out. Jimmy’s eyes closed, his breath hitched. He Saw himself earlier that night, trying to comfort Scarlet. Pierce the Veil. Tell yourself. Do it.

Reach out.

He reached out with his hand, saw an ethereal, ghostly hand touch the shoulder of his previous self. His previous self’s eyes opened, surprised.

Go to him. Go to Robert. Scarlet must see about herself. Robert needs you.

Jimmy faintly heard paramedics entering the house, asking where the patient was.

Wake up, he told himself. Wake up.

Jimmy’s eyes opened, looked around his master bedroom. It was hours earlier. He jumped up, ran to the room Robert lay in, woke him up, made him take the pills.

Risk to himself, for stretching reality. It doesn’t matter, Jimmy thinks. Robert has his own earth magick. Jimmy has his own dark magick.

Jimmy’s eyes opens. It’s Saturday morning again. It was Thursday when Robert first showed up at his house. He sits up, looks around the small room he’d shared with Robert. 

The singer is brushing his poofy hair in front of the dresser mirror, naked, glorious, unheeding.

“Robert?”

The blond man turns to him, smiling. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

“You—you’re ok?”

“Of course I’m ok,” Robert answers, puzzled. “Is something wrong? Jimmy?”

Jimmy lays slack-jawed in the bed, eyes trying to focus.

Was this the price?


	7. Love is the Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it in Jimmy's head? Did both he and Robert defy the powers of the world for each other? Will Robert stay with the one who loves him best? Will he say something stupid and make Jimmy smother him in his sleep? Is magic real?
> 
> These are the important questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing the fabric of reality, our boys! Hopefully this tale was as good for you as it was for me! 
> 
> Should I do more latter days tales?

Latter Days

7

Jimmy opened his eyes, finding himself hooked to machines that dripped and beeped. He tried sitting up to discover he was so weak, and his left side would hardly respond. Scarlet's face bent over him, tracks of tears having carved themselves down her made-up young face. He shook his head at her, she wasn't the one he wanted to see. After a moment she was led sobbing from the hospital room by a nurse, and another face appeared, this one of a man with a mop of greying curls and goatee, and blue, blue eyes. 

"R-robert," Jimmy managed to say, though the left side of his face had fallen.

The singer smiled through the pain on his face. "Jimmurs," he said, the sound sweet and thick like honey. "You've had a stroke, love. I knew as soon as I looked at you yesterday morning. I had one, not long after the Kennedy awards show, and I'd been on meds ever since."

Jimmy reached out his right hand, Robert took it and squeezed. His left side, which meant his fretting hand, was the one hit. How would he play guitar now? Ah, but this was price, wasn't it, to warn himself? To go back and save Robert's life? To not have Robert's swan song, the death-song, gurgling in that powerful chest as Jimmy cradled him helplessly? To do as Robert would've done, to follow his heart and not his head.

Robert scooted his chair close to the bed and lay that great leonine head on Jimmy's chest. "D'you remember when we first went to Bron-yr-Aur? All of us together, our women, everything. It was perfect."

Of course Jimmy remembered, his daughter Scarlet had been conceived there.

"Charlotte thought she was ok with us, but after a week or so left because she hated seeing us at each other?"

The right side of Jimmy's face curled into a smile. Being young men in love, they really got to it once the women left, as Maureen was worried about Charlotte and followed her. They made love in every room of the stone cottage and all over the grounds at some point or other. "My, my g-golden god," Jimmy spoke. The pathways in his damaged brain were rewiring themselves, it seemed.

"My dark sorcerer," Robert responded gently. "You made me take my pills. I felt deja vu, when I came into your house, over and over, little things mainly. You did something, James Patrick Page."

"I saw. I saw you d-die."

"Because I wasn't taking my medication," the singer said. "What did you do? Some spell? Some dark pact? I'd never have allowed it."

Robert kissed Jimmy, leaned back. As Jimmy watched, Robert's outline blurred, like he was seeing two of Robert, one overlapping and lagging behind the other. "You think I didn't learn a thing or two from you, ya Luciferian bastard?"

Jimmy's eyes widened as realization dawned him. "Close your eyes, Jimmy. 

Jimmyyyy…"

The guitarist was floating in darkness, peaceful, total silence. 

Gradually he began to hear Robert's voice, and he strained to hear what was being said. He was crying out, it seemed to Jimmy, demanding to have Jimmy back safe and whole.

Jimmy thought about Robert, a mixture of love and adoration and experience and pain. In some forgotten place and time, Robert was the Sun King, the Stag Lord running through the forest, antlers rising up out of the golden curls as he ran with the deer. Naked, laughing, long legs pumping, propelling him forward, he was Life, he was passion and strife.

Jimmy knelt in the glade, slender and silent, a dark priest, a shaman. Hair black as night partially obscured his beautiful face, knowing green eyes glinted, awaiting his counterpart. The deer darted through, parting like water to avoid Jimmy. Then he was there, and Jimmy stood, opened his arms, and the Hunter strode toward the Sorcerer. 

In our world and time Jimmy opened his eyes, sat up in bed in one of the guest rooms at Tower House. He grabbed his watch, it was Saturday. Again. Saturday? His body worked, he touched his face, was amazed, confused…

He looked over at the large, long form next to him, naked, having kicked the covers off himself in the night. "Robert! Oh God, Robert!"

Robert sat up, stretched like a cat, and glanced sidelong at Jimmy. Jimmy tackled him, tangling the men up in sheets and each other's legs. The guitarist was laughing and crying all at once, when he pulled back from Robert he asked if this was real, was he going mad?

"This is real," Robert told him. 

"You--what did you do?" Jimmy asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

"I asked for you to be spared."

"What price did you pay?"

"I offered myself, how it should've been to start with, me instead of you. It seems Fate or God herself or whoever couldn't refuse such a plea. Or maybe I really am the Golden God," he grinned saucily.

"Oh, Rob, love," Jimmy cried, and kissed him, clutched at him, marveled at how much he was loved by the singer. "I don't care anymore if you leave me again, tomorrow, next month. I want you as long as I can have you. Even when my need for control drives you away, round and round in circles."

"The Great Wheel, ever turning," Robert quoted. "Let's start a new circle, hmm? Oh, you're not still sore about the Phil Collins thing, are you?"

"Robert, I'd almost forgotten about you sucking face with that little toad after I showed up to the party."

"He helped me shape my solo career," Robert shot back.

"He did more than that," Jimmy said to that. 

"A gentleman never tells," chuckled the singer, but then he slid his large hand across Jimmy's lean thigh to lightly touch the guitarist's cock. It twitched under the touch, and Jimmy expelled his breath, all the anger draining out of him. "I'm not running away again, Jimjam. Not this time," Robert moaned these words against Jimmy's cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That got a bit metaphysical but I think I've been reading too many magic tomes lol.
> 
> I just love how the duo just won't see what's plain in front of their faces. Just get married, already!!
> 
> Anybody out there enjoying? Kudos and kind words and cheese sammiches are appreciated! Though you can't leave me a cheese sammich here, unfortunately lol.


	8. Not the Phil Collins thing...or Terry Fuckin Reid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't resist some more Jimmy/Robert sexxes but this time it gets rather...intense.
> 
> M/M
> 
> Our royal lion gets a little dominated.
> 
> Anyways, I had fun, was it good for you guys too? Should I do more latter day Zeppelin stories?

"You are still so goddamn hot," Jimmy murmured back while nibbling on Robert's earlobe.

"Not bad for an old fucker, right?" Robert giggled, then shivered at what JImmy was doing, which was mostly flicking his tongue along his earlobe and taking the skin of his throat between his teeth, enough to flood the nerves with sensation but not enough to break skin. He looked round at his boyfriend to see Jimmy gazing at him with that look. Not just any look.

THE look. The one where the guitarist loses most of his rational mind and becomes a dark beast, needing sexual release. He'd only seen that turned to him a few times. Robert knew he unleashed it pretty regularly on groupies in Zeppelin's heyday, with the ropes and whips and whatnot, but they'd never really did a lot of that together--Robert was too much for Jimmy to dominate in most cases. Even when he occasionally submitted as bottom to Jimmy's top, it was with glee, with pleasure, not fear or loss of control. At the moment, though, Jimmy was in such a mood that it tittilated the singer, intrigued him. "On your knees, love," Jimmy growled out. Robert complied, wondering if Jimmy was having some sort of 1970's flashback from all the substances back in the day. One thing's for certain, Robert knew he was probably going to get fucked nine ways to Sunday and then some.

Since they were already nude, Jimmy moved up behind Robert, who felt the guitarist's hard cock against his asscheek. He then felt the white-haired musician's hands on his ass, running up his sides to tweak his nipples. Robert's breath caught in his throat as those deft hands continued up to his face, caressing so softly, then taking hold of a handful of thick, golden-greying hair and yanking, while at the same time grinding his engorged cock against Robert's ass.

Holy shit, Robert thought. He was probably too old for this sort of thing, but man, fuck it. He squealed, gasped out, "Oh Jimmy!"

Jimmy let loose of his locks and placed kisses and nips on his shoulders and back, eliciting moans from the singer, then he heard Jimmy say, "Need you, Robert, God it's come over me..gonna fuck you. Hard." He had run his hands back down Robert's body and now gripped that glorious manhood, stroking oh so slowly. "Can you...are you ready?" He asked as he reached for the lube, and worked his fingers into the squirming singer.

"I'm worked up as all hell, fuck me, Jimmurs."

Jimmy coated himself with the lube and with that minimal preparation pushed himself into Robert's opening. "ARRRGH!" the lion-maned man cried out in mixed pleasure and pain.

The guitarist snarled, gripped Robert's hips, pulled out, and slammed into him again.

Somehow, despite the tightness, the singer cried out in that air raid siren tenor in absolute ecstasy. The discomfort, fear, pleasure, friction, all clashed in Robert, and he didn't hardly know how to process it all.

He began moving to meet the deep thrusts of the frenzied guitarist, wanking himself off and somehow balancing on one strong arm and his knees, taking a pounding he'd never had before. He squealed when Jimmy hit his prostate, and that apparently cut through Jimmy's animal need enough to have him slamming that spot again and again. "Fuck, Jim, you're gonna make me come, God, gonna come so hard," whimpered Robert.

When he felt his dick spurting his essence onto the bed was when Jimmy took hold of his hair again, jerking him almost upright against Jimmy as he pounded him mercilessly. Again some surprised concern from Robert but it was drowned out by the white-hot pleasure as he was coming, again, spasms still wracking him, till he felt like his balls were likely shriveled to raisins. 

Jimmy roared, actually roared, sank his teeth into Robert's shoulder, hand still wrapped in that lion's mane pulling his head back, and filled the singer with his own hot jizz. He collapsed on Robert who collapsed on the bed, both men gasping from the exertions.

"What," Robert got out at last. "The fuck. Was that?"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," Jimmy said. "That rarely comes out anymore."

"I feel like I was fucked by Satan himself."

Jimmy hugged him close. "I'm sorry," he sounded ashamed.

"Oh no, it was bloody great," Robert laughed, turned until he was facing Jimmy and looked into his worried face. "Just maybe more warning next time. And you bit me. I guess that means I'm yours for real, now."

While all this was going on, an exasperated Scarlet was directing the moving guys with her last load of stuff, and having to pretend that the sounds of one hell of a fight or fuck session or both was going on in one of the bedrooms wasn't actually echoing allll through the walls of the Tower House. She planned to have lunch, then say her goodbyes to Jimmy, if and when he and Robert could leave each other alone. The guitarist had fucked her like that once, on absinthe, and that was intense to say the least. She almost felt sorry for Robert. Almost.

The pair finally made their way to the dining room Scarlet was in as she was eating leftover pasta, looking like they'd both just run a marathon. "Oh look, Robert survived," she quipped brutally as she took another bite.

"No need to worry about Ol' Bob, love," he said, moving stiffly into a chair. "I take a licking and keep on ticking."

"Goddamn you," Scarlet laughed at last. "I can't help liking you."

"And you're so smart and fetching. I'd be so up for a threeway thing. Maybe tomorrow though, I'm getting old."

"Here, now, that's my ex you're shooting innuendoes to," Jimmy cut in, but he was grinning.

"Well, you got oral sex off of and gave it to my ex," Robert pointed out.

"Oh, right. Steve. Heh."

"And don't get me started on Terry Fucking Reid," Robert guffawed.*

"Nothing happened with that. Though I wanted it to," Jimmy replied. "And don't get me started on the Phil Collins thing."

Scarlet looked at one, then the other. "What Phil Collins thing? Wait, no, did you? Really?" she asked Robert.**

"He's a great guy, great musician. Great kisser," Robert answered. "I don't think I could've gotten my solo career off the ground without him."

"He got something else off, too," groused Jimmy, eating his sandwich.

"Wait," Scarlet piped up after a minute of digesting this. "That was like, 1983 or so, but you guys played the Live Aid show in '85. You mean...oh God, no wonder Phil said he got bad vibes from Jimmy. Oh, shit." She began laughing. "How awkward is that?'

"Quite," said Jimmy, shooting daggers at Robert with his eyes. "You're lucky you're such a great shag."

"So can I hear that sordid tale?" the lady asked.

"I think that's for some other time," Robert chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done but then this naughty scene appeared in my fevered brain.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed, gimme kudos, loves, pep talk, some custard pie, anything you feel like leaving :D
> 
> And just because it never gets old, [Terry Fucking Reid](http://fav.me/ddzbhjt)
> 
> *See my previous stories, Lost Boy and Lost Boy 2 to get the Terry Fucking Reid running joke.
> 
> **There's photographic evidence of Robert kissing Phil Collins.

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wanted to get out, just mannnn they're incredibly hot as older men even. Sigh. lol.


End file.
